


A Sunburn at Premium Prices

by Giddygeek



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Imported, M/M, Strip Poker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2052255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giddygeek/pseuds/Giddygeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney flipped a card, moved three stones, tipped over a small cup of water into the little sandbox that came with the game board, and raked the mud with a fork until it had small spiral patterns oozing everywhere. "Ha, I win. Take off your sock."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sunburn at Premium Prices

They should have known that Teyla's favorite vacation planet, "Zocara," she said with a sigh, would be all fun and games until someone got naked.

"I hate this place," John said. He and Rodney were each down to their last article of clothing. John had substituted a sock for boxers. "Laundry day," he muttered, red-faced, as he got semi-decent as fast as he could.

"I think that's cheating, but I won't complain because of how ridiculous you look," Rodney said, unabashedly staring. "Also, as if you wear underwear more than one day a week."

John stared back, eyes narrowed "Well, usually on _missions_ \--"

"Not PX3-199," Rodney sniffed and, okay, no, not then. "Or ML5-679. Or, oh, you weren't wearing them that time we had to rescue from the monkeys in the cave on--"

"First off, they were vicious predators that only _looked_ like monkeys, and secondly, I was only naked because I got _kidnapped_ and _tossed in a pit_." John sat down very carefully, not at all enjoying the feel of the roughly-woven fabric of the cushion against his bare ass, or the thought of the other bare asses that had been before his. Pegasus was not really the place for people who had deep thoughts about hygiene. If you weren't sitting mostly-naked in a place where many other naked people had sat before, you were sharing food with Rodney McKay, or changing diapers, or working spitballs out of Ronon's dreds, and seriously, who thought _spitballs_ and _Ronon_ but not _bad idea_? Ridiculous.

Rodney said, "That still doesn't explain the other times--you look pink on your shoulders. Are you getting a sunburn? Am I getting a sunburn? Oh great--Strip Poker of Death! Teyla's been secretly plotting this ever since I forgot to burp Torren and he puked all down her ceremonial gown, hasn't she. Teyla! Teyla!"

Teyla turned her head, an eyebrow raised. She was as serene as ever, and almost fully dressed.

Ronon was down to playing for his hair beads.

"Your sunscreen works quite well, Rodney," she said. "Do not worry. And as soon as the match is over, you may move on to the pools, which I promise you are shaded and warm."

"Plus there's snacks," Ronon said, and he flipped a card, then moved two stones on his game board. "I lose. Can we go?"

"Certainly," Teyla said, and they gathered their belongings while John politely averted his eyes and Rodney indulged in more blatant staring, eyeing both of them equally until John reached out and punched him in the arm, hissing, " _McKay_!"

"The human body is a beautiful and interesting piece of design," Rodney said, sniffing at him again. "Now will you just lose, so I can go have snacks?"

John sighed. "Next time you're playing with Ronon."

"Fine by me," Rodney said, eyes gleaming.

John punched him again.

"You're a jealous, vindictive little soul, Colonel," Rodney said, holding his arm like he'd been _shot_. "Just for that--" He flipped a card, moved three stones, tipped over a small cup of water into the little sandbox that came with the game board, and raked the mud with a fork until it had small spiral patterns oozing everywhere. "Ha, I win. Take off your sock."

"You'll pay for this, Rodney," John said, as he stood up again and stripped off the sock, dropping it into the pile of his clothes, vest, weapons. He took a deep breath, ribcage expanding, put his shoulders back, cocked his hip. He'd whined almost as much as Rodney about the game, but he had to admit, it was kind of nice to be outside, naked, on a beautiful day, a beautiful planet. Parts of his body usually trapped under layers of gear felt sun-warmed and pliant. He didn't mind losing, so much.

Especially not when Rodney said, "I certainly will." His smug little smirk just got more smug and more smirky as he stood too, stripped off his crisp boxers. He was getting freckles across his shoulders and arms, and his white skin gleamed kind of nicely, and he always looked good when he was victorious over his rivals. It was a thing.

He gathered his gear, then came around the table and headed down the path to the pools, and John watched him go. "Teyla _did_ mention that the pools were private, didn't she?" he asked over his shoulder, even though John could tell by the gleam in his eye that he already knew the answer. "Well, chop-chop, you have vindication to be getting, don't you?"

John certainly had _something_ he was interested in getting. He piled everything into one arm, then headed off after Rodney down the path, enjoying the silky-smooth feeling of warm sand beneath his feet.

"What if I just want your share of the snacks?" he asked, and the sound of Rodney's dirty little half-laugh made him smile, catch up. He slung an arm over Rodney's shoulder and enjoyed the feeling of Rodney's warm body all down his side as their hips bumped together, and Rodney cast him a sideways look from under long, glinting lashes, a crooked smile playing on his lips, the tip of his nose faintly pink.

There were quite a few pools with their curtains open; John headed for the most distant one, and resolutely didn't listen to people giggling, chatting, and moaning in the closed pools as they made their way up the path.

By the time he'd dropped his stuff on a convenient shelf, tied the curtain firmly closed, and turned around, Rodney was already chest-deep in the clear water. He was eating a piece of bread and some cheese dipped in a thick, red, tangy paste that they'd first tried at breakfast, a specialty of Zocara, made from a secret recipe handed down for generations and never shared with travelers. Once Rodney had figured out it wouldn't kill him, he'd made short work of a deep, shallow bowl of it with fruit and a flat pastry like pancakes, eyes closed, making soft little noises every few bites.

Rodney McKay, hedonist.

John smiled at him, then slipped into the pool beside him. The water felt thick, and was herb-scented and warm. The sun shone through a starburst-shaped hole carved into the roof, but the benches were shaded and wide, comfortable, and Rodney leaned against him comfortably when John settled too close to him, slipped an arm behind him and rested a hand on his hip.

"Share," he said, reaching for the bread, and Rodney's eyes were bright and gleaming when he said, "Make me," and all right. So maybe Zocara was John's favorite vacation planet, after all.


End file.
